Amanda Scott Read Online Free Page B

shot up, but even as it did, his flashed up quicker and caught it.
    His eyes still twinkled, and his leather-gloved grip was light, but she could not pull away.

Chapter 2
    L achlan Lubanach Maclean of Bellachuan on Seil, and Knapdale, fought to keep from grinning at the lass’s dismay. He should, he knew, have guessed who she was at once, because not only was she richly dressed but she also lived up to her legendary reputation for being the most beautiful woman in the Isles. Doubtless, that incredible beauty had bewitched him and caused his wits to desert him.
    Looking at her, he felt something stir within that he had not felt for a long time. Her eyes had a bewitching, message-sending clarity, her voice a rich musical resonance that was deeply sensual. Her temper was legendary too, however, and by the way her ivory cheeks reddened and her dark blue eyes flashed, he was certain that had she wielded her father’s power of the pit and gallows, he would soon be hanging from a good strong rope. Nonetheless, he felt drawn to her.
    Beside him, his brother Hector made a warning sound in his throat, but Lachlan ignored him. Hector cared more for the ancient Clan Gillean battle-axe he wielded so dexterously than he did for anything else, but he also had a finely honed eye for the fair sex. Lachlan’s skills extended to many things other than battle, too, and he welcomed any challenge or puzzle. The comely lass offered both.
    “What goes on here?” a gravelly voice growled behind them as a strong hand grabbed Lachlan’s shoulder, startling him. He still held the lass’s wrist, but in that instant he realized that whoever had grabbed him had also put a hand on Hector’s shoulder, doubtless meaning to pry them apart to see what was going on.
    Quicker than thought, he released the lass and caught Hector’s other shoulder as he wheeled to deal with the intrusion. By the look in his eyes, Lachlan was barely in time, undoubtedly saving the intruder from a stunning blow if not instant death.
    “Steady,” he muttered, but Hector had already recalled their surroundings, and the light of battle quickly faded from his eyes.
    The two turned as one to face the interloper, and Lachlan stifled a sigh when he recognized Niall MacGillebride Mackinnon, Chief of the Mackinnons and High Steward of the Household to the Lord of the Isles.
    Behind Lachlan, the lass pressed both small hands against his left side, trying to shift him out of her way. Hoping to protect her from Niall’s displeasure, he stood his ground until she said, “Niall, make them move. I want to come in.”
    When Mackinnon glared at him, Lachlan obligingly stepped aside.
    “This be no time or place to stand chatting,” Mackinnon said curtly. Then, softening his tone, he smiled at the lass and added, “Welcome home, Lady Mairi. ’Tis relieved we are that you’ve enjoyed a safe journey despite this wretched fog.”
    “Thank you,” she said. “But pray, sir, will you show me where I should sit? I want to speak for Ian Burk, you see, but the hall is exceptionally crowded.”
    Mackinnon frowned and glanced over his shoulder.
    The thirty-by-sixty-foot-long hall teemed with men. Not only did they occupy every bench, they also crowded each long side aisle from its line of pillars to its outer wall, leaving a walkway only from the door where Lachlan and the other two stood with Mairi, up that short side aisle and around to the dais.
    Beyond Mackinnon, between two of the nearest line of pillars supporting the barrel-vaulted ceiling, Lachlan could see MacDonald of the Isles seated behind the table on the dais in a full-length black robe edged with gold braid. He was flanked by two golden banners bearing the Nyvaig, the “little black ship,” that was both his device and the Great Seal of the Isles. Nearby stood his ever-present body servant.
    As Mackinnon tried to espy a suitable seat for her ladyship, MacDonald gestured to him.
    “Forgive me, my lady,” Mackinnon said with